#FUCKING CRYING RN

[fairyofshampgyu]

WJAT THE FK FUCKINGUCK FUCK FUCK WHAT THE ACTUAL EVERBLIVING FUCK ??!)/8:&$€>€€%*BEOMG FUCKINF GYU ?!€**%6)£8& IM LITERALY IM FUCKING-I JUST IM CRYING IM SCREAMING INIUDT CANT DO THIS ANYMORE GOOD GRACIOUS FUCK

[crguang]

this black swan thing im cooking… unbelievable, i still have ~1k left to write like half of this is just filth

[yourstrulyarrow]

guys omfg please if ur ever bored go argue about trans people on reddit with a right-wing teenager. i'm serious. i'm so fucking entertained. this guy can't even fucking read man. i sent him 2 links to studies directly contradicting his source-less statistics. he sent me back some long thing about how i'm brainwashed and need to use .gov links... HE SENT ME BACK THE SAME LINK I SENT HIM Y'ALL. HE SENT ME THE SAME LINK I SENT HIM AND MISINTERPRETED THE RESULTS THINKING IT WAS IN HIS FAVOUR. he clearly never even pressed the links i sent him and it's sooo fucking funny. he also has piss-poor reading comprehension. like he reads "people who have had sex reassignment surgery are more suicidal than their cisgender control counterparts" as "post-op trans people are more suicidal than pre-op trans people". deadass. he sent me a link to the heritage foundation as well where they misrepresented the results of a swedish study that showed higher suicidality in trans people post-op than cis people... and a guardian article from 19 years ago that was... surprisingly supportive? and also stuff about medicare and some other company saying there wasn't enough research into trans people... he thinks this proves trans people shouldn't have surgery. im crying laughing. omfg hes so stupid. he has no reading comprehension?? oh and it took him SEVEN HOURS before he sent me his piss-poor defence. did bro have to sleep on it?? im CRYING GUYSS HAHAHAHA

[candylitaaa]

That moment where you start writing a fanfic but also starts feeling embarrassed to see people reading it

[sparrownnax]

just finished episode 1 this is great we got

-autism

-failgirl

-This Man Is Clearly The One Who's An Actual Functioning Adult. The Closest Thing To Responsible That This Party Seems To Have

-autism (experienced)

[gl0st1ck]

Me: gosh I’m behind on my notes, lemme put a hold on totbp to focus on that

SBI-centric DSMP idea: But you’re gonna write that Skyward Sword fic you randomly thought of after, right?

[m4ggotm0ld]

adding this song to the list of things i cry to 😁

[haxo-wolfie]

these are so fucking fun to make having the time of my life

[maidomaidomaido]

😭

STOP MAKING FUSAKIN DEAD I DONT WANT TO KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HIS DEATH PLEASE STOP 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[arvandus]

NOOOOOO THAT LEVI FANART IS AI ART WHYYYYYY

[lizzie-tempest]

this post hit me like a truck

[endlessthxxghts]

STOP I’VE BEEN A SOBBING MESS ALL DAY, AND THE LOVE YOURE GIVING THIS IS SENDING MY HEART INTO SHAMBLES 😭😭😭😭☹️☹️☹️💚💚💚 thank you so much for reading. I loved every second of writing this. I hope I was able to transfer that even a little bit of that love over to those who read it. 🥺💚

Tell Me More (j.m. oneshot)

Pairing: no outbreak!neighbor!Joel Miller x fem!afab!reader

WHAT YOU NEED AU MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

Takes place in the What You Need universe (masterlist linked above)! CAN BE READ AS A STAND-ALONE!

Rating: NSFW, MDNI W/C: 4.4k

Summary: Your house is finally empty for the first time in a long time, so you decide to get back in the groove of your witchy practices. Joel stumbles in during your meditation session, and he's intrigued to know more.

Warnings: Religious (Christianity/Catholicism) undertones/religious trauma - brief mention, but does affect reader. Talk of crystals, talk of Tarot cards. Mental health talk, my babies: depression mentions, allusions to wanting to give up in life. Dom/sub dynamics - talks of being collared...getting collared (stfu I’m sobbing)🥲!! These knuckleheads are legit IN LOVE. Age gap. Established relationship. P in V sex. Use of daddy. Allusions to other sexual activity. Please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: I'm gonna preface this with the fact that this is entirely something I wrote because I was needing comfort. I do witchcraft. I love crystals, I do tarot readings, and all that jazz. Within the last year, I haven’t done much because I’ve been in a living situation in which I have to hide who I truly am. A few nights ago, I got to spend a few hours with someone who partakes in these practices, and I’ve never felt more alive in those two hours than I have in the last year. And I’ve been craving to feel that way again, but again, my living situation prevents me to do so. So, here I am, healing a part of myself through my writing. Even if you guys are unfamiliar in the whole aspect of witchcraft, I hope you guys can enjoy this from the aspect of finding a person who finally accepts you for all that you are. If this isn’t your cup of tea, no hate! Please just scroll away. All my love. Xoxo💚

You told Joel a few hours ago that when he got off work to just let himself inside because you weren’t sure if you’d be having a nap or not. He knew the garage code and knew where the spare key was, anyway. 

So when he was greeted to an empty home at the end of his work day, he didn’t think anything of it. That is, until he entered your room and saw you, legs criss-crossed in the center of your bed, eyes closed, with rocks and playing cards scattered all around your bed, enveloping you in a makeshift circle. 

“Uh, baby?” immediately leaves his mouth as he stares, absolutely confused at the situation before him. 

Your eyes shoot open, not expecting to be in the presence of another human being right now, and a little squeak escapes you. “Oh! Baby! Almost gave me a heart attack,” you say with a light giggle. 

“What are you-” he gestures towards your bed as he walks closer to you, leaning over your bed to give you a chaste kiss, “-up to, darlin’?”

You’re absolutely radiating sunshine right now, and even though his confusion is still getting the best of him, he can’t help but feel giddy in your presence. “Oh, well,” you smile up at him, a hint of shyness in your voice, “I thought I’d take advantage of my family being out on their little vacation, so I wanted to take some time to meditate.” 

“Oh, okay,” he offers you a smile back, one like he understands exactly what you’re talking about even though the sentiment doesn’t reach his eyes. Usually you’d be shying away and scrambling to put your stuff away. But this is Joel you’re talking about here, and he just looks utterly confused. 

You raise your eyebrows slightly, prompting him to ask his question you know he’s dying to ask.

“And this meditatin’,” he says a little hesitantly, “you do it with, um.. with rocks?” 

Your hand flies to your mouth, a slapping sound echoing in the room, in an attempt to stifle your disbelief at his words. “Rocks?” you say perplexed. 

His cheeks heat up at your passionate reaction. “I-”

You scooch your bum over, gather everything on your bed and make some room over for Joel. You pat the space next to you, signaling for him to come over. He sits next to you, tucking one leg under him as the other hangs off the bed. 

You take his hand and hold it palm up, sliding one of the clusters in his palm. “These, my honey, are crystals,” you pause to think for a second. “Well, okay, yes, they’re rocks, BUT-”

His cheekbones raise in amusement. You’re caressing the crystal in his palm, eyes fixated on it as you speak. You think he’s looking at the crystal, but really he’s watching and loving just how passionate you are about this.

You continue on for a good fifteen minutes or so about what crystals are, what meanings they have, and you also mention what powerful properties they carry—whatever that means, he thinks to himself. In all his years of life, he has never heard of anything like this, nor would he ever get into something like this. 

“So, this ro-” you physically cringe at the word. He corrects himself. “This crystal,” he says, “it makes you sleepy?” 

He’s trying. And it makes you want to swallow him whole and never let him go. You think for a second, pondering the implications behind the crystals properties of the Amethyst crystal sitting in his palm. Inner peace. Rest. Relaxation. You smile to yourself at how Joel processes the information. Looking up into his eyes for the first time since your little tangent, “Yeah, baby, you’re getting it,” you say with a gentleness in your voice, the brightest of smiles on your face. 

Since he’s been with you, he has never seen you interact with any of this stuff before. It must be something you do on the down low, or something you rarely have a chance to indulge in. Whatever the case may be, the genuine light and happiness radiating off of you is addicting, and if it’s because of these things, he’ll gladly learn everything there is to know. 

He gently places the Amethyst down beside you, and picks up a light blue one, tower shaped. “This one magic, too?” 

Your eyes positively brighten, more than they are now. His heart beats stronger at the sight. You tell him the crystal he’s holding is called Celestite, and it helps with inner peace and is supposed to help guide you to a more divine consciousness when you meditate. He smiles with you, offering the occasional nod and grunt to signify he’s listening to you even though everything coming out of your mouth sounds like a foreign language to him. 

After the fifth round of him picking a crystal for you to explain, he opts for the cards sprawled all over your bed. “This… magic involves… card games?” He grimaces as the words leave his mouth, silently cursing himself for the insensitivity of his vocabulary. You stifle a laugh, knowing he didn’t mean it that way though, which is why you can’t help but pull him into a sweet kiss before you go on and explain. 

“What was that for?” He asks, cheeks reddened slightly. 

“Nothing, baby, I just love you.”

He presses another kiss to your forehead. “I love you, sweet girl. Now, tell me more about these not playing cards, please.”

Your cheeks hurt from all the smiles he’s been pulling from you. “Mhmm, so these are called tarot cards, my love.”

The next hour is spent with you explaining the cards, what they do, and what kind of things people use them for. Joel seems confused, weirded out, and impressed all in one. 

“Ain’t no way this lil thing answers my life questions,” he deadpans. 

“Okay, no it doesn’t give definite answers- these aren’t fortune tellers,” you say. He sees the gears turning in your head, trying to find a better way to explain to him. “They give advice or feedback…” you start. “They give guidance for the situation your current self is in. They aren’t meant to be taken like law or religion, but more so like if your friend was a therapist. They can give you advice, but not too much without crossing the patient-therapist threshold. Just tiny nudges in a potentially better direction.” 

Now it’s your turn to see the gears turning in his head. His smile slowly spreads the moment it actually clicks for him. “Oh, wait, that actually is makin’ sense to me,” he says a little more excited than usual. He places kisses on your forehead, cheek, and lips, trying to place his excitement somewhere. You laugh in his embrace. You’re beyond excited that the most important person in your life is open to something so unconventional, so taboo. 

For years, you’ve had to hide this little part of you for fear of your family shunning you. They’d kick you out without a second thought if they found out about this. They would be unwilling to hear your explanations and would deduce your actions down to the work of the Devil. 

They wouldn’t care that immersing yourself in the craft—whether this stuff is actually real or not—is what saved your life, time and time again. They wouldn’t care that when you had the worst depression episode, it was meditating, learning the meanings of different crystals, and connecting with the Earth and the divine that taught you the meaning of life again. None of them would ever be willing enough to even try to understand. 

“Thank you,” you say in a mere whisper, eyes glossing over slightly. 

He sees your eyes. His hand snakes up to your jaw, bringing your face closer to his, noses ghosting against one another. “For what, darlin’?” 

“For trying to understand. For acting like you want to.” Your eyes falter from his. His thumb caresses your cheekbone, trying to spark your attention back up to his gaze. It does. 

“No, baby. I want to. No actin’ here.” His lips meet yours, warming you from the inside out.

“You swear?” you ask him as he pulls away. 

His eyebrow quirks up at your antics. Your bottom lip juts out in a pout. “Swear?” you repeat. 

“On my life,” he says. 

You place one more kiss to his lips before you’re pulling away and sliding off the bed. “Come, I’ll cook. You haven’t eaten since this afternoon, huh?” 

“Guilty,” he tells you, face warm at how well you know him. “Mhmm. Do you mind just putting the cards back in that box over there for me real quick?” 

“Of course, darlin’.” 

“Thank you, baby,” and with that, you’re out in the kitchen, whipping up a small meal for the both of you.  

As he grabs all the cards, putting them in a stack before he slides them in the box, a singular card jumps out of his hands. He remembers what you said earlier. 

The way that I like to do it is by shuffling the deck and letting the card itself jump out at you! There are many ways to do it, but I don’t know. I like the pure chance of doing it that way.

He picks up the card, softly speaking to it. “Jumpin’ out for me?” He has to pull the card to and from his eyes a few times before his vision becomes clear. Love, the card reads. He smiles to himself, his heart giving him all the explanation he needs for the meaning of it. He places the card into his flannel pocket to show you after you dinner.  

With both your tummies satiated, you begin to gather the dishes when Joel throws you a stern look. Whether you two are actively in your dynamic or not, you know not to test that look. You settle back down in your seat, hands held up defensively with the smallest of airy giggles. 

“Ya know better than that, darlin’, especially if you cooked.”

“I know, I know,” you say to him apologetically. “I’ll take care of it,” he breathes, “but first,” he stands up, leaning over your shoulder so you both can look at the card from a good angle when he pulls it out. “Remember what you were sayin’ earlier ‘bout your cards jumpin’ out at ya and whatnot?” 

“Yeeaahh,” you drag out, turning your head and looking up at him curiously. 

“Well,” he reaches for the card tucked safely in his pocket. “As I was puttin’ them back in the box, this one just came out at me.” He sets it down softly in front of you. 

“Oh?” You’re eager to see which card. Love, your eyes read. Your heart beats five times stronger, and your smile grows ten times cheesier. 

“Does it mean anythin’?” He asks. “For our..current situation?” He has a silliness in his voice, but you can tell he’s genuinely curious. 

“It means…” you start, your eyes slowly leading back to meet his own. You stare into his eyes for a moment, soaking in the warmth, the safety, the love that he always gives you so willingly. A moment extra passes, and you’re still in a trance. He sees your stare fade from adoration into something more deep, needy. His stare changes, too. The pretty brown of his eyes nearly erased with arousal in your sudden change of energy. He quirks his eyebrow, reminding you to speak.

“It means.. Daddy needs to take me to bed,” you say, voice soft and shaky with arousal. 

“Is that right?” he asks, his deep voice vibrating you from the outside in.

His mere tone has you slipping already, your voice automatically pushing out a reply, knowing he requires a response after every question. “Y-yes,” you say. 

He leans in to give you a slow, heated kiss, his hand finding its way to your jaw. He pulls away, much too soon to your liking, but you don’t protest. “Bed. Now,” he says, standing himself to full height. “Yes, sir,” you say as you shoot up from your seat, making a bee line to your bedroom. “And in position,” he yells to you. 

You don’t respond to him then, but that’s okay. He knows his sweet girl heard him; he knows how good of a listener you are. Which is why he refrains from his original idea of teasing you—of clearing the dining table and washing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen—before he gives you what you need. 

Instead, he only clears the dining table, saving everything else for later and coming to you. He finds you, completely stripped of your clothes, centered at the middle of your bed, sitting on your haunches, palms face up on your thighs, eyes casted downward. Eager yet patient. Aching with need yet satiated knowing that you will be taken care of. His sweet girl. So good.

His shirt is the first to go, left somewhere at the doorway of your room. He’ll grab it later. For now, even though no one else is in this house, he shuts your door, wanting both of you to be completely consumed with one another and nothing else. He pulls the rest of his clothes off as he makes his way to the edge of your bed, leaning over. Your eyes are still downcast until his fingers are on your chin, bringing your attention to him. 

He can’t help but melt into a puddle with the way you’re looking at him. It’s almost as if he created the entire Universe for you. “Mi alma (my soul),” he says. “You’re always so good for me. Always.” He brings your lips together in a soft embrace. You chase his touch as best as his grip allows you to when he pulls away. 

Even softer than the kiss, he asks “How do you want me?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you respond, “I just need to feel you. Every single part of you, Daddy, I-”

He cuts your babbling off with a kiss, and this time, he doesn’t break it as he pushes you to lay on your back. He doesn’t break it as he lines himself up with you. He doesn’t break it as your legs go to wrap around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. He foregos all forms of prep or foreplay, knowing you need him just as desperately as he needs you. 

The rest of your guys’ night is filled with exactly this. Feeling—and filling—each other in the deepest ways possible. He makes you cum on his cock several times before he fills you to the brim with his spend, kissing and licking into your mouth, all over your neck, and any other areas he can reach without straying too far from your face. He sees his entire existence in your eyes; he needs to be there as he gives himself to you. 

Reluctantly, he pulls away, lowering himself down your body and settling into the space between your thighs. He marvels at what a pretty mess both of you made, your shine all over as his cum begins to leak its way out of you. He leans forward, flat tongue licking up a slow, wet path across your entire sex. He stays there for hours, pulling climax and climax out of you, his belly feeling full at how much he’s taken from you. 

Even as you reach the territory of overstimulation, you don’t care. You want more. You need more. 

Joel makes his way back up to you, missing the feel of your mouth on his. As he looks up though, he sees tears pooling in your eyes. His hands immediately go to your face, thumbs catching the runaway tear. “Talk to me, baby,” his voice quivers, his feelings heightened at the emotional intensity of the last several hours. 

“I-” you choke back a sob. “Please don’t ever leave me, baby. I don’t think-” you take a shaky breath, more tears escaping your eyes. “I can’t live without you, baby, I need you, I love you, please don’t ever leave-”

His lips are back on yours, soft and all-consuming, stealing your anxieties and stowing them far away where they will never poison your mind ever again. 

“Never,” he says. “I’m yours, my sweet girl. Always. I’m not goin’ anywhere that’s not with you. I love you more than anythin’ in this fuckin’ world. You’re never gettin’ rid of me, ya hear, mi flor? (my flower),” he says as he gives your head a small shake, making sure his words are etching themselves into every groove of your brain so you never forget it. 

It’s been a week since that night you and Joel had your house to yourselves, and he still can’t shake the burst of insecurity that infiltrated your mind. Which is why he finds himself at a local (witch)craft store—way out of his depth but still set on finding the perfect thing to seal his love for you. 

You two have discussed the concept of a collar before, and you showed a genuine interest. It was a tangible reminder of who you belonged to, and it definitely made your heart skip a beat. However, you weren’t so attuned to the idea of the actual image of a traditional collar, and neither was Joel. The conversation was cut short because you got pulled into another task that had to be taken care of, and the topic was never brought about again. But Joel thinks about it more often than you think. 

In some dynamics, collars are accessories that a Dominant and submissive work their way up to. In a way, the collar symbolized a promise. It symbolized forever. For some, it was their wedding ring equivalent. That was what intrigued Joel so much. So, after last week, the idea has been eating away at him. 

And that’s when he saw it. A beautiful necklace, the chain, a mix of green crystals—your favorite color—all various shades, with a beautiful, metal pendant sitting at the heart of the necklace. It was a short chain, slightly longer than how a collar would wrap around your neck, but still mimicked the effect of one. You talk often about how much you love the moon and that night you talked about the amazing energy the moon provides. The pendant was a moon with a star hanging from the top of the moon’s crescent figure. It was perfect. It was you. 

He finds the worker and goes through the motions of purchasing the necklace for you. Of course, Joel wanted a tangible thing to symbolize his promise to you, and that’s when another idea struck him. He turned back around into the store. 

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he says. “Ya wouldn’t happen to have any rings, would ya? Preferably one with a moon?”

The lady gives a knowing smile. “Right this way,” she says. She may not understand the dynamic between the two of you, but she definitely can recognize a lovestruck man when she sees one. 

He calls you on his way home from the store. 

“Hi, mi luna (my moon),” he says. “What are you up to right now?”

“Hi, baby,” you respond giddily, his mere presence, whether on the phone or in person, always makes your mood one hundred times better. Hearing his little nickname for you though throws you off guard, forcing you to ignore his question. “Luna?”

He smiles. “It means moon.”

“No, yeah, I know that, baby,” you softly chuckle, “I meant, what inspired it?”

“No reason,” he says nonchalantly. “Was that okay though?”

“I like anything that comes outta your mouth, baby,” your voice laced with a filth he knows all too well. 

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his cock from stirring. “Darlin’,” he says, voice strained. 

You stifle a laugh, knowing how easy it is to get him going. “Hmmmm?”

“You better choose your next words very wisely, girl.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you offer quickly as you fill his ears with your addicting laughter, “I’m done, I promise.”

He grumbles something incoherent, ever your handsome grump, then reminds you about his question. 

“Oh, right, sorry! I just got done cooking lunch for everyone. I’m in my room now, though.”

“Can you come over for a bit?”

“Always. You home now?” 

“Just parkin’, baby.”

“On my way, Sir,” you say, holding in another little giggle. 

“Fuckin’ trouble,” you hear him say before he ends the call. 

You meet him as he gets out his car, him pulling you in for a bruising kiss that immediately has your core pulsing. “Well, hello to you too, cowboy,” you smirk as he pulls away. He smacks your ass as he turns you around and starts guiding you inside, one hand on your hip, the other holding the bag with your new necklace inside. 

Not wanting him to let go of you, you spin in his arm and reach for his keys, turning back to unlock his front door. 

“So,” he starts as you break away from him, making your way to his couch. He immediately goes to the kitchen to grab you a glass of water, placing it in your hands rather than the table because he knows you probably haven’t had a moment to hydrate yourself, having just finished taking care of your family as he called you. 

You drink half the glass gratefully, bringing the rest to his mouth as he sits next to you, knowing he probably hasn’t hydrated himself either. He finishes it then sets the glass down on the coffee table. 

“I got you somethin’.” He tries to sound mysterious, but really he’s sounding like an excited schoolboy ready to share his treasure with the class. 

“Oh yeah?” you say. “May I ask why? It wasn’t expensive, right?” You soften at your last question.

He knows you get a little apprehensive at the idea of money being spent on you. But he abides by your wishes too much to his liking, so this, he allows himself. “The number don’t matter, baby. Close your eyes and turn around.” 

“Sir, yes, sir,” you mutter under your breath, adjusting yourself to be between his legs, his one stretched across the couch as the other hangs off the side. 

Once you settle in front of him, he leans over to grab the bag from the table and pull the necklace out. “Eyes closed, baby?”

“Mhm.”

“You remember a while back our conversation on collars?”

“Yes?” you say, a questioning inflection present. 

 “Well…” Joel trails off. Right as you jump to speak at his weird behavior, you feel cold metal grace the skin of your neck. You gasp at the sudden change in temperature, fighting for your life to keep your eyes closed until he tells you to do otherwise. 

“I know neither of us wanted the traditional look. Something more sly has always been our style, huh? I hope I chose okay,” he says softly.

“I’m gonna cry, can I please open my eyes now?”

“Yeah, bab- no, actually, wait,” he says, pulling you to stand up, his hands on your hips, guiding you to the mirror in his en suite bathroom. “Okay, yeah. Open.”

The second your eyes open and land onto the ethereal necklace resting on your chest, you can’t help the flood that falls from your eyes. “Joel,” you breathe out. “Baby, oh my god.”

“Is it alright?”

You turn in his arms, your eyes now directly on his instead of through your reflection. “Baby, really? Is it alright? This is the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” your voice cracking through each word. 

His cheeks are a little blushed, slightly bashful at your praise. “I just- I wasn’t sure what to choose or what crystal had what magic, but what really sold me was the moon,” he says as his hand comes up to caress the pendant. 

You respond to him by pulling him in for a kiss. One in which you hope tells him everything he needs to know about how grateful and how truly, deeply in love with him you are. His arms snake around your waist, pulling you flush against his body as he kisses into you, replicating the same feeling back to you. You begin to smile through the kiss as something else clicks for you. You pull away from him. 

“Is this why you called me luna earlier?”

“You don’t like it?”

“No, baby, I actually really love it,” you smile up at him, butterflies erupting in his belly at the sight. “Coming from only you though.” His hand snakes up to grab your jaw, pulling you into his mouth as he whispers mi luna before crashing himself onto you for another kiss. 

You pull away from him, breathless, and turn to face the mirror again. You’re too entranced by the beautiful jewelry to keep your eyes off of it for too long. His hands snake around your waist, and it’s then that you notice it. 

You freeze. You grab his left hand, an antique looking moon, identical to the one on your neck, wrapped around his ring finger, staring back at you. Your eyes flick back up to your guys’ reflection, meeting his eyes. “Was waitin’ for you to notice,” he says. 

If you thought you were sobbing before, then you’re an absolute wailing mess now, hiccuping like a little child who is yet to learn how to control their emotions. “I love you so fucking much,” you say as best as you can in between each hiccupped breath you take.

He turns you back to face him, cupping your face with both hands, peppering your face with kisses everywhere he can manage. Soft I love you’s leave his mouth in a chant, praying to his one and only Goddess. 

He lets you cry it out, he knows you need to. As soon as you're less of a blubbering mess, he’ll remind you that he is forever yours until you choose otherwise. He’ll remind you that although he takes charge ninety-nine percent of the time, it’s because you let him. 

He’ll remind you just how much he’s irrevocably in love with you, verbally, physically, and every other way he can. From now until forever. 

End Note: Thank you all so much for reading! Likes, comments, reblogs, etc. — all your support means the absolute world to me. I wouldn’t be able to do this without all of you. Thank you so so so much. There are genuinely not enough words to express my gratitude. As always feedback (at a technical sense) is also super super helpful whether it is constructive or positive! Anything helps me to be the best writer that I can be. All my love! Xo

Tags: @javierpena-inatacvest @katiexpunk @janaispunk @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @survivingandenduring @getitoutofmymind @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @akah565 @pedrostories

[v0idwraith]

the vibes on this election day

[ohposhers]

ok guys my magnum opus Family Troll AU floyd is brian branch is meg and hickory is lois the first image is a lie

[itscherryterry-again]

yea

[demigods-posts]

okay but percy calling the minotaur 'ground beef' is so diabolical. because imagine being the well-known. undefeatable. half-bull half-man. seven foot tall monster. prancing around in your fanciest fruit of the loom tighty whities. and this twelve year old. with no objective experience in swordfighting. whose mom you just violently squished to death. calls you a feast for carnivores. the important part of a taco. the beef of the wellington. i would have gave up.